Page 44 of Eyes of Kings

Calla takes the servants’ passages through the Palace of Union, avoiding prying eyes. After their encounter with the cleric, she doesn’t want to risk running into any other Crescents who have been given the same task. It would be a waste of her time handling them.

What a far cry this is from the Crescent Societies shortly after the takeover, greeting her by kneeling across the devastated palace. She’s glad that there is no more pretense, at least. No guards trailing her around. No play-pretend in palace silks while she picks her way through these dark corridors. She’s returned to her city leathers. The weight of her sword at her hip.

Anton took the task of delivering their instructions to Venus Hailira. Bibi went off to test whether she still has enough sway with the Crescents to borrow a carriage. That has left Calla unaccompanied while she emerges from the servants’ passages and into the north wing. She hastens up the grand staircase, then rounds the corner, seeking her former quarters when she was the palace advisor. Right-hand collaborator to King August, who was not August at all.

“Hello,” she greets when she walks in.

Joselie looks up, a curl of white hair falling loose from her chignon. She holds a mop in her hands, working on a stubborn area around the baseboard.

“Your Majesty,” she says plainly. She doesn’t seem surprised at Calla’s appearance, nor does she make any fuss about switching Calla’s title, though theyhave not seen each other since the coup that melded this crown to her head. Joselie returned to the twin cities when the delegation sent back their attendants and nonessential forces. There hasn’t been any reason for Calla to hunt her down since then, and Joselie has maintained a safe distance. “Don’t step here. It’s wet.”

Calla pauses. Her toes skid against the line of the puddle.

“Did you want me to jump over it?”

Joselie immediately makes a hand sign over her stomach—fingers pinched together, her wrist pushing a circle. Calla recognizes it, in that distant way she remembers how to speak Rincun’s dialect. It’s a gesture from the provinces. A way to ward off evil qi from invading your body.

She’s forgotten that the old woman has a sense of humor.

“I might be too evil to ward off. But I respect the attempt.”

“Don’t talk nonsense.” Joselie starts to push the mop again. “Our King-Killer needs a bit of darkness to get the job done.”

Calla leans up against the wall. “How opportune. I wanted to talk to you about that.”

The mop slides left. Right. “About killing?”

“Yes.” It’s close enough, at least. “The first time I met you, you were explaining another alias the palace used for me. Do you remember?”

Calla waits, seeing if Joselie recalls her words, but the woman stares blankly.

“Let the nobles believe that I was some minor god that the servants prayed to,” Calla echoes, trying to paraphrase Joselie’s words. “Let King Kasa shrug it off as a harmless, rural practice.Glory of Her Father.”

The conversation is coming back to Joselie. Calla sees the gleam appear in the woman’s eyes. Prior to the Crescents’ growing influence a decade ago, there hadn’t yet been a crackdown in San-Er over prayer to the gods. The palace allowed San-Er to build their home shrines, because the twin cities would never relinquish their kings.

“I remember.”

“Did you come up with it?”

“No, of course not.” Joselie snorts, amused by the very thought. “Other servants did.”

“Why?” Calla asks. “I understand the meaning. The glory to Talin. But Kasa would have believed any moniker, supposing it sounded like it originated from the pantheon. Whythosewords particularly?”

Joselie sets the mop in the bucket again, letting it soak.

“I believe it came from a rural dialect. A transliteration of your name.”

“You believe it was? Or it was?”

“Ibelieve.” She shoots Calla a sharp look. “We rarely discussed the matter explicitly in fear of being found out. I could be mistaken.”

“Joselie…”

“While I was born in San-Er,” Joselie goes on, riled up now, “many servants were not. Those who won entry through the wall often applied for palace work as their first role in the twin cities. It was the safest option. Familiar and reliably paid, even if it wasn’t much. We picked up a lot from each other. I could understand the dialects around the Jinzi River, even if I myself cannot converse in it, so I dobelieve—”

“Cal-ah. Father’s glory. Right?”

It likely wasn’t Rincun’s dialect, but Calla approximates the sounds, flattening them to get closer to the tone of the southern provinces. There is enough overlap that the words do not change too much.